Centerfold
by Azalea542
Summary: Faye's found a better gig than bounty hunting, but Spike and Jet might just spoil it for her.


Centerfold (Na na na na na na)

This is how it happened: Jet and Spike were off after some bounty in Tharsis. Faye stayed in town near the spaceship docks, doing some shopping. Ed and Ein tagged along, making more trouble than they were worth.

Faye leaned over to adjust a sagging stocking, her ample breasts nearly tumbling out of her meager top.

"Have you ever considered modeling?" a strange but impeccably dressed man asked. He handed her a business card with the name of a famous nudie magazine—Cheesecake Fetish—on it.

"Cheesecake!" Ed shouted, peeking at the card Faye was holding. "Can Ed have some cheesecake?"

"No!" Faye snapped.

"Then just cheese? Or just cake? C'mon, feed Edward!"

"Hmm.." Faye uttered thoughtfully, but she was not thinking of giving Ed any snacks. What she was thinking of was possibly making more money than she was now.

Back on board the Bebop, after carefully considering things for precisely one hour and seventeen minutes, she came to a decision and told the guys she was leaving bounty hunting to become a pin-up model.

"You're not serious?" Jet asked.

"What, you think I don't have what it takes?" Faye demanded, cupping her breasts in her hands.

"No, it's not that…" Jet began uneasily, the blood rising to his cheeks.

"What it is is that modeling is no more a steady job than bounty hunting," Spike said coolly, his arms behind his head as he lay on the couch. "You'll be starving again soon enough."

"Then she always can come back here," Jet offered. "She always does anyway."

"Aw, Jet, don't invite her!"

"At least I told you this time I was leaving," Faye snapped.

_Snap! _A photo was shot.

This is how Faye lived her life—she was a gambler. Not just on slot machines and gaming chips, but everything else in the world. She did what she felt like doing—worry about the consequences later. No regrets.

_Click!_

No regrets—that was just a front, like Spike always acting cool and uncaring. There had been plenty of times when Faye felt ashamed or wanted to kick herself.

_Snap!_

She had gone from fair maiden to bad girl with a bang, losing her virginity at an orgy. Up until then, she hadn't known if she had come out of cold sleep a virgin or not—but that night she knew. She knew she had betrayed her former self, whoever she had been eons ago.

_Click!_

Then she tried to find just one lover, but the men she found seduced her, promising her love and security, and vanishing in the morning. Then, perhaps out of bitterness, she had pulled the desertion trick herself on young men, each of whom could have possibly been her prince.

"Okay, take five."

_Is this a new low? _Faye wondered, lying back on a platform used for photo sessions, and donning a white, terry robe they gave her to cover herself between shoots. _Aw, it can't be lower than the orgy, can it? Why am I doing this?_

She knew, when she disrobed, she got a certain feeling of liberation and giddiness—and a feeling that men would see her picture and want her. Maybe that's why she was doing this—she needed to feel wanted.

No one on board the Bebop had ever wanted her.

Suddenly, Jet and Spike burst into the studio, caughing Faye to gasp and sit bolt upright.

They were aiming their guns at her publisher, Mr. Spinelli. "Freeze, Spinelli!" Jet ordered.

"Oh, relax, Faye," Spike chided, seeing Faye wrap her arms tightly around herself to keep her robe secure. "You're wearing more than you usually wear."

"Don't tell me he's a bounty," Faye said.

"Yeah," Jet informed her, while Spike handcuffed Spinelli. "Wanted for sexually assaulting one of his pin-up models."

"She wanted it," Spinelli grumbled.

"I know what you're thinking, but you should know I can take care of myself," Faye pointed out.

"I wasn't thinking that at all," Spike insisted. "I was thinking of the nice stuff I could get for Swordfish with the bounty money."

"You came after me 'cause you want what I got!" Faye insisted haughtily. The three were walking on the sidewalk outside of the police station after having delivered Spinelli.

"Faye—let me tell this to you straight," Spike said. "Not every man wants what you got."

Faye glanced quickly at Jet to see if he would back her up, but the man just stood there looking bewildered. Finally, she retorted, "Sure, not every man wants what I got—if they're gay!"

"I'm not gay! I just have taste," Spike declared smugly.

"Something a gay man would say."

Jet chuckled. Both Faye and Spike glared at him.

Spike altered the subject. "Look, Faye, all we did was save you from making a grade A slut out of yourself. You should be grateful."

"Yeah, thanks," Faye said, with venom.

Spike turned to walk away. "Now you can be just a regular medium grade tramp."

Faye growled and stormed off in the opposite direction.  
"Spike, that was the wrong thing to say," Jet chided. "Who taught you how to always say the wrong thing in front of a lady?"

Spike lit a cigarette and took a puff. "Who said she was a lady?"

"You're not very nice to her."

Spike didn't answer, he just smoked.

"You two aren't that different," Jet continued. "You're both stubborn, obnoxious asses with pasts—"

Spike lost his cool. "I'm nothing like that bitch!"

Jet shrugged.

Spike's eyes narrowed. "You're trying to hook us up, aren't you?"

"Who--?"

"Like when you got so mad I wouldn't come look for her on Callisto."

"She's our comrade. I thought it was important."

Spike pointed a finger at him. "You know what I think?" I think it's _you_ who's got a thing for her."

"What?"

"But you don't think you can get her. So you're trying to get me and her together. That way, you can live vicariously through me."

"Yeah, right. As if," Jet said as calmly as possible, so as not to give away too much. He took out a cigarette, and felt for his lighter, but he seemed to have misplaced it. "Spike—what's vicarious mean?"

Spike blinked. "I dunno."

"You gotta light?"  
Spike reached into his suit, but instead of pulling out a lighter, pulled out two photographs of Faye in the nude. "You want one?"

Jet warily took a photo. "Where'd you get these?"

"I swiped them off our bounty's desk." Spike placed his copy back inside his jacket.

"Why you keepin' that?" Jet demanded suspiciously.

"I might need it for leverage in an argument. Why are you keeping yours?" he countered, noticing Jet put his picture under his outer layer of clothing.

Jet grunted. "I have my reasons."

Spike smiled. "You're the only guy who can give her what she needs, Jet."

"Shut up!"

Spike held a lighter to Jet's cigarette.

Instead of thanking him, Jet muttered, "Obnoxious bastard."

"Yeah, that's me, all right," Spike said lightly.

Faye was lying on the couch in the Bebop's living room, idly channel surfing.

Spike walked in. "What are you doing back here?"

"You should know," Faye replied. "You ruined my modeling career."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you should have come back here."

"Save the pity. Did you treat your precious Swordfish to a nice date?  
"Not yet." Spike pulled out a cigarette.

Faye sat up. "You know, you have never done anything for me. Not one thing."

Spike talked through his teeth, clenching his cigarette. "Oh, like you've done anything in return."

"I watched your back when Mad Pierrot came after you."

"Ah, you were just in the way. How about when I saved you when you were held hostage by the Red Dragons?"

"You did that for your own reasons, not for me." Faye's voice began to crack with much fought tears. "No one on this ship gives a damn." Before Spike could interject with a "Well, you don't care yourself. You're always running away", which she knew he was thinking, she continued, "Maybe if they did care, I wouldn't run away so much."

Jet walked into the room. "Aw, Faye, don't cry. I'm making you your favorite—General Tso's chicken."

Faye wiped her eyes and looked at him. "Oh, thanks, Jet. You're so sweet—unlike _some_ people around here."

"General Tso's chicken?" Spike quipped. "More like General So-So chicken."

"Well, maybe _you_ won't have any!" Jet snapped.

"Hey, I like Jet's chicken," Faye defended.

"Thanks." Jet glowered at Spike, then headed back to the kitchen.

"Well, that shoots holes in your theory that nobody cares," Spike remarked. "He's making your favorite meal—just for you."

Faye said nothing.

"Look, Faye," Spike began tentatively. "You should be happy you're back here. If we hadn't busted that guy, the police would've found your body in a back alley somewhere."

Faye cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Besides," Spike continued, echoing something he had once said before. "Now you've got your whole future ahead of you—again."

Faye stood up. "I'm going to the kitchen to see how Jet's coming along." _That was the best Spike could do to cheer me up? He's such a loser. Well..he did try. That's pretty good—for him._

She looked around at him. "Thanks, Spike."

He was already engrossed in channel surfing and grunted. "Live surgery again! Who wants to watch this stuff anyway?"

Faye smiled and left the room.


End file.
